Two Knights Opener
by Sunbird Riding Shotgun
Summary: Prequel to Black King White Knight. When they first met Nate and Eliot bonded over chess. Years later they'd find it was still a pretty good starting point. A series of Nate/Eliot one-shots, arcs, and drabbles.
1. Two Knight Opener

**Notes:** As stated this is a prequel to my Black King White Knight story. It will be Nate/Eliot (mostly) pre-slash though there will likely be more chapters like Concerning The History Channel, A Wall, and Apple Shampoo for those following my stories thus far. As strange as it may seem this prequel might actually make moer sense if you've read what it's prequel to (Black King White Knight) first since some of the things given plenty of description in there are mentioned at a passing in here. It doesn't make sense, I know, but it's how I wrote it. I apologies in advance. Also this might make more sense if you've read Cell Number Eight.  
Also, to all my lovely regular readers this is a reminder/informer that I start college in two (2) days and thus will be taking a week off to settle in (though I might make a post if I have free time) and after that my posts will likely become more sporatic as school gets in the way of writting. Never fear, all stories will be updated in due time (though I swear I'm going to start poking my beta with a stick if she takes much longer with the last chapter of Fathers). I bid the go forth, read review and be merry.

* * *

**Two Knights Opener  
**_After the Nigerian Job Nate and Eliot play chess and talk about things._

* * *

Later Nate would admit he shouldn't have been surprised. After all, after the whole discussion and decision to split up until everything was ready Nate had told Eliot they needed to have a chat. Eliot had nodded an agreement. "Your place." Before departing in the opposite direction of where Nate's "place" was.

In retrospect coming back to his hotel room only a little buzzed for once and finding Eliot there shouldn't have been a surprise.

When Nate walked in Eliot was lounging in the armchair in the corner with the old magnetic chess set he'd given Nate years ago out with the pieces in place. Nate guessed he was still trying to decide his first move. Back in Cairo when Nate had taught Eliot how to play it had only taken a few games for Eliot to understand just how important an opening move was.

Nate put down his bag and shook his head. "Come in. Make yourself comfortable. Can I offer you something to drink?" He deadpanned but crossed to sit in the chair pulled over to the other side of the table nonetheless. "Been practicing?" Nate asked before moving a knight.

"When I can." Eliot said with a non-committal shrug. He studied the bored. Nate could almost see him playing out move after move down the line in his head. There was the reason he'd caught Eliot when Sterling had never quite managed it. Nate never made the mistake of assuming Eliot was dumb muscle.

He was probably one of the few people in the world who knew how much Eliot was capable of when given half a chance.

Eliot moved his own knight and Nate looked up, rueful smile on is face. "The two knight opener I see."

"Seems appropriate." Eliot said looking up to meet Nate's eyes.

_"Two Knight Opener" Nate said, tapping the pebble that was serving as one of his knights and looking up to Eliot._

_The kid was grinning for reasons Nate didn't really understand but didn't really care at that moment._

_It had been four days since Nate's most recent job in Cairo had gone rather badly and ended up getting him caught and thrown into some dank little cell in the middle of nowhere._

_He'd been surprised to find out he had a cell mate, glad to discover his cell mate wasn't likely to try to kill him, but also more concerned than he'd admit at first. The boy couldn't be much older than his early twenties but half healed burns and lacerations and other marks clearly left from torture had become infected some time ago and gotten worse. As it was he was loitering on death's doorstep and waiting for an answer._

_And the boy didn't seem to mind at all._

_When Nate had set about trying to do what he could the boy had looked at him through pain glazed eyes and turned away. His message unspoken but very clear. "Just let me die in peace." And Nate wondered if he should leave him be. It didn't look like he'd survive much longer._

_But he was barely more than a kid, and with Sam only a year old back home, and with Paul's voice in his ear Nate had done what he could._

_The kid didn't die that night, though it was two days before he was lucid more than he wasn't. By then the scars the kid bore and words murmured in fevered dreams had told him plenty about the kind of life that had made the kid whoever he was._

_It was three days before the kid spoke. Muttering commentary on Nate needing to suppress his gag reflex if he wanted to get their "breakfast" down his throat. He'd introduced himself as Eliot Spencer. He didn't say thanks then. He still hadn't. But Nate wasn't holding his breath._

_It had been that afternoon when Nate got the idea of chess. He'd pulled stray stones and straw and whatnot together until he could set up something close to a board. He'd played with himself, but it hadn't taken long for Eliot to give in to curiosity._

_Before long Nate had taught Eliot the basics and one game melted into the other. As the games melted together something shifted and the oppressive silence translated into conversation as slowly they found somewhere halfway to meet. Hitter and Hunter formed a tentative bond._

_And maybe this wasn't the first time Nate saw Eliot smile. But it might have been the first time whatever it was that had left him broken and waiting to die didn't linger like a shadow behind those clear blue eyes._

"_Care to share the joke with the class?" Nate asked after a moment, still not understanding what Eliot found amusing. _

_He shrugged, nudging a pawn forward. "Nothing, just seemed appropriate."_

Nate nodded, looking down at the board, moving a piece.

"Doesn't seem like ten years does it?" Eliot asked, moving his own.

"Nine." Nate muttered the correction. "Four since we've seen each other."

"Somehow across the table in an interrogation room in Tuscany doesn't seem like a reunion of old friends." Eliot muttered moving his own piece. "Though maybe not friends…" He trailed off. "I know we said..." Eliot started but stopped, his expression changing. There was distrust there, more so than Nate remembered.

Then again it was nine years. It was time enough for a broken young man to grow up and grow hard. It was time enough for Nate to lose everything that had mattered back then. It was time enough for the world to change them both.

"We agreed we weren't friends." Nate reminded him. "It was better that way."

"We were on different sides then." Eliot pointed out.

_After everything that had happened, everything they'd seen, everything they'd done together and for each other… it was odd. Nate finished buttoning up the collar of his shirt and stared back at himself in the mirror of the hospital bathroom. The dirt, blood, and grime of two weeks in captivity had been washed away. The torn and filthy pants exchanged for business like attire suitable for what he did, now covering up the seven lacerations on his back._

_It felt like he was hiding them, hiding from them even. He'd gotten them when he'd earned the guard's wrath asking for water when he and Eliot had been given none for two days and Eliot was relapsing quickly. _

_He didn't have more because Eliot had acted, faking an escape attempt to draw their anger from Nate and take the beating himself. Taking the punishment to protect those he cared about was something of an instinct for the boy._

_In the aftermath, trying to stop Eliot from bleeding out, Nate's hands had been marked by both their blood and something inside him felt it was symbolic. Blood for blood. A friendship forged on unstable ground solidified by sacrifice. _

_A seal hidden from sight under the guise of who he was and why it was impossible. _

_Inside Cell Number Eight lines cut in the skin had blurred the line between them. _

_Outside it was clear again and they couldn't look back._

"Still are." Nate insisted, moving a piece. "I'm not a thief."

"But you're not one of the good guys either." Eliot pointed out. "Guard your bishop." He added as he moved a piece. "All this time chasin' us and we're the ones who caught you. Seems 'ronic."

"Who said I'm the one who got caught?" Nate asked, moving his knight and taking the piece threatening his bishop. "Seems to me you all are playing my side now."

Eliot cocked a smile. "I think someone once told me sometimes bad guys are the only good guys you get. Robin Hood was still a thief ya know." He took Nate's white knight with his own, twirling it in his fingers before setting it on the side of the board and looking much too pleased with himself.

The game continued in silence as minutes stretched on. Nate had to say Eliot must have been doing more than just a little practicing. He'd improved a lot over the years and they seemed to be playing on even footing now.

He was so focused on countering Eliot's plays and breaking his momentum he almost missed what Eliot said when he broke the silence. "What didya want?"

Nate backpedaled a moment, catching up with the train of thought that had brought them here. Nate studied the bored and made his move before speaking. "What happened during our escape? I never asked you, never thought it would be my business again, but we're working with a team and judging from how you acted..."

_It had happened fast, and seemed even faster in his memory. They'd escaped cell number eight, Eliot leading them to the garage where they could steal a ride that would get them out of the desert before it killed them. The guards had caught them, a hail of bullets only missing him when Eliot tackled him and all but dragged him behind a car._

_Pinned down with only seconds until the guards called for backup or realized they weren't armed Eliot had stood, saying he had to stop them._

_Eliot had been cut off by a window shattering, taking a bullet in the side. The shock had ran across his face, replaced by something else. Something Nate didn't recognize._

_Something he feared for reasons he couldn't, didn't want to, place._

_A guard had come around the corner to their hiding spot then only to be left broken and dead on the floor next to Nate before Nate even registered Eliot had moved._

_"Stay down." Was all Eliot said before walking to leave their hiding spot._

_Nate had rolled under the car and closed his eyes, unable to block out the screams that soon echoed through the garage._

_When the screams stopped he'd rolled out, moving carefully out of hiding._

_The sight that met his eyes stayed in his mind and haunted his dreams for years to come._

_Eight guards lay dead on the floor, weapons, body parts, and blood scattered from one side to the other. In the center of the carnage stood Eliot, spattered with blood, a knife in one hand, and a look on his face somewhere between confusion, shock and pure terror._

_Nate was pretty sure whoever had wreaked the havoc scattered about them it was only Eliot by loose association._

Eliot bit his lip, considering the chess board a long moment, and settling over a black knight before speaking. "I call it the black knight…" He said with a rueful grin. "Someone once told me you give somthin' an entity and it's easier to control. That's what I do now. Control it. The Black Knight… It's violence, anger… I don't really know. But when I cross over…" He moved the piece. "It happened a lot when I was younger. I'd be hurt or out numbered or somthin' and I'd slip under, white out. I'd wake up to dead bodies and blood, never even remember how it happened."

"Does it happen anymore?" Nate asked, keeping his voice calm. He'd seen enough with his own eyes to believe what Eliot had said.

Eliot shook his head. "I've… I learned control."

"Good." Nate said, moving a piece. "Cause Eliot? If you lose control you're out. I can't pull this team together and ask them to sit next to a time bomb. If you can't control that violence in you and lash out at us… we're all dead. I'm not going to risk that." He looked up, meeting Eliot's eyes. "Understand me?"

Eliot let out a long breath and nodded, turning to the board in front of him an odd mix of the famous retrieval specialist of today and the young man he'd been when they met.

It was odd, how a reunion could take them both back years, projecting images like memories of how they used to be.

They made moves and exchanged pieces for a few more minutes, silence growing heavy before Eliot spoke again. "So you still mean what you said. Even now we still aren't friends. Black knight and white knight still can't go together."

Nate moved a piece, buying a moment to try to put together some kind of response. Eliot sounded ten different emotions not one of them touching anywhere near hurt, but Nate was pretty sure the rejection still stung the man.

He let out a long slow breath. "They can't." He said finally. "But I'm not a white knight anymore and you're not the black knight." He added looking up. "It's been ten years Eliot. We're not who we used to be. We couldn't go back to who we were and what we were anymore than we could go back to Cell Number Eight." He met Eliot's eyes. "I don't know who we are now, but in a couple months the team's comin' back together… maybe things have changed enough."

Eliot gave a rueful grin, reaching out a hand and pushing his queen across the board. "Check mate." He said softly.

It took only a glance to confirm he'd lost. With a sigh he knocked over his king.

"Hey Nate." Eliot said, drawing Nate's attention back to him. "Why don't you try playin' black for awhile." He picked up his black king and tossed it to Nate. "You try being a black king." Eliot placed a battered white stone Knight on the chess board. The same knight Nate had mailed Eliot when he forfeited the chess game they'd kept going by mail over the years. It was one of the last ties Nate had cut after Sam died. "You try being the black king and I'll give being the team's white knight a shot."

Eliot stood, heading for the door but hesitating only one moment on his way out. "An' Nate? I am sorry 'bout Sam. He was good kid. Deserved better. You both did."

He left Nate in a silent apartment, staring at a white knight, and remembering a late night nine years gone when he'd realized even though his cellmate was a criminal he was still a good man.

Seems like the last thing he'd said to Eliot before leaving him in a hospital in Cairo was still true.

_"You are good man whose learned to survive in a world of evil men and that makes you something extraordinary. Never forget that."_

He rolled the black king in between his fingers.

Eliot had always joked everything eventually came back to chess with him.

He put the piece down and got up to go change his flight plans.


	2. The Way of the World

**Notes:** Well collage is settling down and in and I think I'll be able to manage about two posts a week. Thats my goal anyway. I'll try for more when I have time.  
I had trouble with this post. Somehow writting this while plotting out the In the Shadow of a Gunman arc (which is all about Eliot being very protective of the team) causes a bit of a dicotomy. Anyway, hope you enjoy it. I had to mess around a lot with FF to get it posted.

* * *

**The Way of the World  
**_After the Homecoming Job Nate and Eliot play chess and reflect on the ways of the world._

* * *

Later he wouldn't really remember how he ended up over at Nate's place. Sure, he could recall in exact detail his route, mode of transport, even the time each step of the trip took. He could remember the details he just didn't feel like he'd made the trip. It was the sort of disassociation he was more used to when he'd been drugged or slipped over to the Black Knight.

He wasn't used to it just being from being lost in his head a little. He normally managed to avoid that sensation.

But somehow here he was, knocking on Nate's door a little after midnight, hours after the team had met up to celebrate their first successful helping people job and broken up not long later when they'd all been collectively disturbed by the bartender where they'd gathered assuming they were friends.

Somehow here he was, with no more excuse for his presence than the offer of a rematch for the chess game they'd played back in Chicago.

Nate answered the door and smiled. "Was wondering when you'd show up." Was all he said.

Eliot didn't like the fact he'd apparently become rather predictable after only two jobs.

Hell he didn't like that he was predictable at all. It was dangerous in his line of work.

He followed Nate into his apartment and back into the living room where the old stone chess set he'd sent Nate after their little chase through Italy was set up. Eliot could only smile. The weather-beaten white knight he'd carried for a year stuck out against the polished stone pieces.

Kinda like him. He may be playing a white knight now days but Eliot's armor was more dinged up than most.

Neither man spoke as they settled down to play the game. Years ago Nate might have filled the silence with a rambling talk that was part story, sermon, and lesson. Within the walls of cell number eight he'd helped long hours pass by teaching a much younger Eliot like a father might.

But ten years had changed them and two jobs were enough to know that the fledgling sense of father and son had died. Eliot was no longer the young man he had once been, somehow still reaching for a hint of guidance and father figure to replace the monster he'd been given. Nate had lost his son and let the father in him die with it. Even if a hint of it might still exist he was suppressing it, Eliot's line of work far to dangerous for him to allow even a chance that he might have to deal with the pain of another son dying.

Years had changed them and stolen the need for words.

Now it was enough to share the silence, indulge in the hint of comfort of what had once been while still trying to figure out what might yet be.

Pieces were exchanged and plays made. He moved his battered knight to protect a pawn, a odd move but he could see strategy playing out down the line.

He smiled bitterly, his white knight protecting a pawn on masterminds orders…

_It was odd, how carefully Nate would step when it came to Eliot. The others didn't notice, or maybe they did, but he skirted Eliot's duties and never asked for more than necessary. _

_At the hospital Eliot had been the one to take down the hitmen to protect Perry. He was the hitter taking out the threat to getting the job done, in this case ensuring the client lived long enough for the job to get done._

_But as soon as the immediate threat had passed Nate had taken over. Nate had taken Perry to his car, and from there to his safe house, and never once even looked toward Eliot in the process. Where others might have assumed that Eliot was the best person to ensure Perry was safely tucked away Nate knew better. _

_Hitters weren't bodyguards, they were perhaps the worst bodyguards you could hire. Their entire existence was about protecting themselves before others and the only exception was directly for a job._

_Even for a job it only went so far before self preservation won out and the job was left hanging in favor of walking out alive._

_And those who hired hitters quickly learned what Nate was obviously trying to avoid. If you press a Hitter to take a role of a bodyguard they're as likely to just walk away._

_Most of the criminal world understood that was just how it worked. Sophie and Parker understood and even if Hardison seemed a little confused when Nate and Perry went off leaving Eliot to return to home base with the others he was still a kid. He'd learn or get himself killed. It was how the world worked. Unless he started assuming Eliot would be his guardian angel it wasn't really Eliot's issue. _

_"You know Nate once told me why he's not like the others in his work." Sophie said from the doorway of his darkened office, breaking his reverie as he waited for Nate to get back. "Why he sees us as capable of more than just being theives. He said he'd been taken hostage and spent two weeks sharing a cell with a young hitter who helped him escape, even protected him."_

_Eliot watched her dispassionately, not letting on anything more than a faint interest in her getting to her point._

_"That was you, wasn't it?" She asked, or stated maybe, as she walked a little further into the room. "I couldn't quite figure it out before, but it would explain."_

_"What?"_

_"Nothing." Sophie said with a little smile and shrug. "I'm just passing time and trying to figure out the rule of this team of ours." She turned away. "It's odd to find a hitter with a protective streak."_

_Before he could argue Hardison called out that Nate was heading back. Eliot grabbed the bag and headed out for the conference room. _

_Alright, he did have a protective streak where family was involved and maybe it extended just a little towards Nate. _

_But he was the god damned hitter of the team. He hoped Sophie wasn't going to start thinking he'd be her white frikken knight. _

White knight protecting pawns, protecting the other pieces.

Stupid.

He made his next move then watched, surprised, as Nate's black knight came out of nowhere taking one of his pieces.

God damnit. When did the world start sneaking up on him that was Parker's job.

_He'd been in his office again, trying to get rid of all the crap Hardison had put in there that he didn't want and kill time before the next part of the job. He was moving around furniture to make room for a comfortable arm chair that didn't look like it belonged on the bridge of some frikken starship when Parker appeared._

_The door was still closed. _

_He didn't want to know. "What do you want Parker?"_

_"Teach me how to fight." She said. He blinked at her once and then opened his mouth trying to form some kind of answer. She interrupted him. "We have a hitter which means there will be hitting but you won't protect us. Hitters are hitters not shields. If theres hitting going on I need to know how to hit. So you need to teach me."_

_"No." He started, a dozen reasons appearing in his mind for why that was a Bad Idea. They ranged from the fact there was something wrong with her and he didn't want to give that firepower to the fact she seemed-._

_He didn't have time to finish the thought before she shrugged. "Oh, alright" and left through the door calling over her shoulder that Nate probably wanted them to leave for the con's next part soon._

_He was left standing in his office, with the finished thought playing in his head. "to the fact she seemed messed up enough already without dipping her toes into his world."_

_Since when did he care that she was going to get more messed up if she messed around in the world of Hitters? Oh, yeah, because he was being forced to work with her and he could do without her being more wrong than she was. _

_He'd go with that._

_"Theres somthin' wrong with her." _

Nate was giving him the look that meant he was taking a little long to make his next move.

With a long sigh Eliot moved another piece. He needed to stop thinking about the team as chess and start thinking about chess before Nate kicked his ass.

"Protect your bishop." Nate said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Eliot scanned the board and realized the source.

The bishop, the piece his mind that seemed to associate everything with chess when Nate was involved thought of Hardison as, was being threatened.

The battered old knight was the old piece that could protect it. The act would cost him the piece though he knew it was better to lose a knight and keep his bishop and momentum but.

Had Nate learned how to read minds and not mentioned it?

He didn't think Hardison would have told Nate about their little talk earlier.

_It had been an offhand comment, just some random remark that should never have even registered in Eliot's head. _

_But things had spun out of control all day and they were finally settling down. The job was over, they were on their way back to the office (and why was he giving Hardison a ride?) and Eliot was trying to relax. His nerves had been fraying from the fact he was working with *people* and that the whole problem of violence thing. _

_He should have let it slide, he actually was rather good at picking his battles and not letting the little things get to him._

_Okay, he didn't let all the little things get to him._

_But it was Hardison mouthing off about Eliot being the teams champion protector against evil and god knew what he was actually on and Eliot pulled the truck over and screeched to a halt. He whirled sharply toward Hardison. "Will you shut it already. " Hardison actually seemed a little afraid of him. Good._

_He was ignoring the twinge of something that wasn't good._

_"Dude? I was only joking man. Lighten up." Hardison said, hands raised and an expression of 'theres something wrong with that man' sliding across his face. "Whats your problem?"_

_"My problem?" He asked, trying to reign it back in enough that Hardison only was a little worried Eliot was going to deck him. He took another deep breath and let it out, shifting the truck back into gear and pulling out onto the road again. "My problem is you didn't know what I do. You want to last long? Learn about the other lines. Learn what retrieval specialists are. We're hitters. We hit, we don't protect."_

_Hardison, to his credit, seemed to recover from whatever shock he was in quick enough to try to stutter something out. _

_Eliot wasn't hearing it. "I watch out for my own back, maybe Nate's cause I owe him. The rest of you, unless it's to do the job, have ta watch out for yourselves. Ya all got so spooked when someone came after Perry. That's the way of the world in my line. If I don't watch my back I'll end up dead. If you think I'm watchin' your back you'll end up very dead. Got it?"_

_The rest of the ride was silent, but Eliot never felt Hardison's eyes leave him. _

Nate took his knight.

Nate fucking took his knight.

Oh, this was serious now.

"Yes." Nate said, breaking the train of thought he'd been forcing himself down to avoid and ignore the part of his mind mocking him for getting so wrapped up in the events of the last few days.

"What?" Eliot asked, looking up from the board for the first time in a while.

"They're afraid of you. On some level they're all afraid of you. They might always be." Nate sat back, studying Eliot with that expression that for the life of him Eliot could never read. "Does that bother you?"

"Should it?" Eliot asked with a shrug. "You saw how they got over Perry. We're all criminals but their worlds' different than mine." He shook his head and moved a piece. "Hardison thought I'd be protecting us."

"Can hardly blame him." Nate said with a little grin, moving his own piece. "In the few days we've worked together you've saved him from prison twice and saved his life once." He chuckled. "Just give them time. This team will pull them into your world and they'll understand soon enough."

Eliot paused, hesitating a moment before taking his next move. He wasn't sure why that…

"That does bother you." Nate said, only a hint of surprise in his voice. "Intresting."

They continued the game in silence, Eliot trying desperately to break Nate's momentum and turn the tables back. He was losing, badly, and couldn't seem to intercept Nate's strategy.

"You're a hitter." Nate said in the quiet while Eliot was trying to figure out his next move. "Your job begins and ends with making sure you get out alive. I'm not going to interfere with that or try to order you to do otherwise. You're a survivor and it's against your nature."

"Not a survivor." Eliot interjected. "Self preservation." He added, not taking his eyes off the board. After taking his move he looked up, explaining. "I'm practical. I know when my best option is to lay down and die. You should know I have a Hitter's back up plan." He turned his eyes back down to the board. "I've gotta couple good reasons not ta use it, but I'm a professional. I know when the game's up."

It took Nate a moment to regather. He had to know what Eliot meant. A Hitter's Back Up plan was a cyanide capsule implanted on a back molar in preparation of the day they were caught and couldn't escape. It was a way to end the pain for good.

"Good for me to know." Nate said with a small, curt nod. He made his next move and let out a breath. "I was saying I won't ask you to go against the laws of your world. I just have one question, you don't even have to answer."

"What?" Eliot asked, making his move.

"If you hadn't been determined to save me, would you have survived Cairo?" Nate moved his piece. "Check Mate." He stood from the board and wandered over to his bar, pouring himself a drink.

Eliot just watched him, a dozen different emotions and reactions whirling in the pit of his stomach and just a hint of something he didn't even recognize as he watched Nate and tried to work through what Nate had meant.

"I'm off to bed." Nate called over his shoulder. "Crash on the couch if you want."

Eliot turned his attention back toward the board. _How the hell did this happen. _Whirled around in his head.

Somehow, he was pretty sure he wasn't thinking about the lost chess game.

At least not the literal one.


	3. Habits, Instincts, and Feelings

**Notes:** Tag to the Wedding Job.  
Cell Number Eight is heavily refferenced in this. Also avoided some spoilers for Fathers for those of you just tuneing in.  
I so wanted Nate to give Eliot a back massage but it was just waayy too out of character.

Maybe when I tag the Mile High Job.

* * *

**Habits, Instincts, and Feelings  
**_After the Wedding Job Nate and Eliot play chess,give in to old instincts, and discover somthing New.  
_

_

* * *

_

It had become a habit, more so than Eliot normally let himself fall into. They finished a job and Eliot found his way over to Nate's apartment for a game of chess. After the first couple of times Nate started to expect him, not drinking as much to stay on his game, picking up a six pack of Eliot's favorite beer, setting the board up before Eliot got there.

They talked about the jobs or the team or what was going on, had little confrontations about the way things were settling in. The team had only been together for a month and it they were still feeling their way along, finding patterns.

Like a wrap party after a successful con.

Like a game of chess to ease back into life in between jobs.

Eliot would never have admitted it but the games helped him ease out of the head space he got into as a hitter. It helped his brain switch back from hyper-vigilance, follow orders, react to threats immediately and violently to something a little more relaxed.

On nights like this, when his body was adding up the blows he'd taken from the butcher and giving him the bill in the form of bruises, stiff muscles, and the a condition he would generally describe and feeling "sore"… Having something to help him come down from the adrenalin high of a fight without physical activity was even more important.

And that wasn't even brushing on some of the old injuries this whole mess had prodded at.

Nate was expecting him, meeting him at the door with a cold beer for both of them. They walked back to the board and settled in for a slow night.

Nate was still considering his first move when he spoke up. "Hardison asked me if you really liberated Croatia."

"Not by m'self." Eliot answered, watching as Nate pushed a pawn forward.

"Which is more or less what I told him." Nate answered, tone unreadable. "The girl you loved married someone else so you liberated Croatia. Nice cliffnotes version." Eliot really hated when Nate went unreadable just before saying something like that.

"You'd want me ta tell him the whole story?" Eliot asked, making his own move. "Yeah Hardison, it made me half suicidal an' I went on a job I hoped would get me killed. I ended up caught and thrown in a cell outside Cairo where I met our boss who kept me from dying and I helped escape and he convinced me ta go lookin' for somthin' to live for by sendin' me to help a protect the little people in a Ukrainian country. Then I liberated Croatia. Because he told me to." _Because he was the closest thing to a father I'd had in years._

He added that last part mentally. That connection formed had died long before Sam, and the death of Nate's real son had stomped out any chances of them ever getting it back. Eliot knew that. He was okay with it. He'd changed in the years since and the part of him that had been looking for a father figure had gotten over it's daddy issues years ago. He still respected Nate, even if he was learning more and more everyday how Nate had changed since Sam died, and Eliot still felt… something… when they were together. But that paternal sense was long gone.

Nate a rueful face and shrugged, taking his own turn. "You have a point." He admitted.

"You are the one who had no problem letting us all know you an' Sophie have a history but never once made note that we've got one to. I figured you didn't want any of them knowing 'bout what went down in Cairo." He said it without venom, just cold and casual statements. But when Eliot looked up from making his next move Nate was frowning like he did when he realized something was more complex than he previously thought.

Nate took his own move and sighed. "You're upset?"

Eliot gave a barking, bitter, laugh at that. "Nah… 'm not Sophie. She's the one who'd be throwing a cow. I just don't getcha." He winced a little, shifting in his seat, stiff muscles still annoyed at him and the laugh had pulled at the bruise across his back badly in a way he wouldn't have believed if he wasn't used to it.

Nate never said whatever he'd been about to say. A concerned look passed across Nate's face and Eliot only belatedly reminded himself this man was almost as good at reading people as Sophie. A little, mostly covered wince probably wouldn't escape his attention.

Nate's eyes scanned over him, taking in the black high collared button down he was wearing to cover up the bruises left by the fight and avoid unwanted attention.

Yeah. Suddenly Eliot remembered Parker theorizing Nate had super powers. It almost felt like it under *that* stare.

Nate stood gesturing with his head toward the bathroom. "Take the shirt off."

Eliot was responding and moving before it sunk in why this wasn't half as weird or awkward as it should be, why he wasn't arguing that he was thirty-fucking-five years old and had taken care of his injuries on his own thank you very much.

Back in cell number eight, from the moment they'd first met, Nate had been taking care of Eliot's injuries. It was necessity back then.

It was instinct now.

Obediently Eliot unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his shoulders, telling himself not to think too much about it.

Nate had gotten whatever first aid kit he'd been getting and returned, stopping and half stumbling through the return approach. It took Eliot a moment to catch up, recognize that it was shock that made Nate slow. They'd spent two weeks together with nothing but ragged pants and layers of dirt.

But that was ten years ago and the scattered scars left on his body by Eliot's stepfather had been written many times over by the marks a hitter's life had left him with.

Eliot sat on the edge of the coffee table, waiting as Nate set down his things and fumbled, both recovering and trying to recover his original intention. Especially now that he could clearly see Eliot had properly taken care of the molted bruises and scattering of little cuts the fight had left him with. It was nothing to get upset about, just the wear and tear of the business.

Later Eliot would deny the little flinch that went through him at the touch. He should have been expecting contact but when Nate touched a fading scar on his back it was like a little shock ran between them and up his spine, not nearly as painful as most of his encounters with electricity but just as jolting.

"Is this…?" Nate asked, his voice soft as the finger just barely tracing the old scar, one of a set he'd gained in a little cell outside Cairo ten years ago. He was surprised Nate could find it, half written over by those he'd recived in the years since.

"Yes." Was Eliot only answer.

Nate drew his hand away as if it had been burned, a strange metaphor considering the sudden cold left in the wake of that si-

Eliot was hitting the mental breaks on that train of thought before it got thrown by a hand closing around his shoulder. "You shouldn't have come." Nate said simply. "You're not bad off but you should be taking it easy."

Eliot turned, looking over his shoulder and shooting Nate a look that was caught somewhere between "You've got to be kidding" and "you really think I'm going to do that?". Whatever Nate was about to say died on his lips and a far away look crossed his face. He took away his hand and Eliot shivered just a little. Damn Nate keeping his apartment cold all the fucking time.

It occurred to Eliot that was a look he hadn't really given Nate since Cairo, and from certain angles and with certain expressions Eliot knew he looked younger.

But that didn't explain the troubled frown on Nate's face.

"Look, I'm sittin' and playin' chess. It's the best way to come down from a job I can think of that doesn't involve activity." Eliot grabbed for his shirt, pulling it on and buttoning it quickly. "Are we playing chess or not?"

They went back to their game, playing without speaking for a time, both wrapped in their own heads and neither really paying attention.

Eliot won the game, but it was close and not what he'd call anywhere near a resounding victory. If the game had been a fight it would have been the kind where he walked away but ended up spending the next several weeks recuperating.

As they're working to clean up the board and the booze their fingers brush, another jolting sensation.

Eliot looks up, meeting Nate's eyes, wondering what the hell is going on and if he should even be considering acknowledging it even in his own head.

Yeah, it had messed him up back then, and yeah it had taken him years to get to the point where it wasn't another issue he couldn't afford, and yeah he was…

But this was Nate. This was Nate, his boss, the father figure to his twenty five year old self who had way too fucking many daddy issues and there were so many ways Freud would love this. Seriously, with Eliot's history what it was this… lust? Could a semi warm sensation he remember vaguely from Amie be called that?

His past and this semi warm sensation (and when in hell did his sister's terminology for this sort of thing take root in his head? ) for a man he'd at one point looked to like a father?

Yeah, that wasn't a sign he was way more messed up than he let on.

In only a breath of time they broke contact and pulled away.

"Go home, I can clean up." Nate told him.

He listened.

When he got to his own apartment he admitted the ironic good news of the night.

At least he probably wouldn't spend it brooding over Amie now.


	4. Check

**Notes: **A lot of things that happen later reference this story, which is kinda strange since I only just wrote it. *shrug*.

* * *

**Check  
**_Four times Nate and Eliot's chess game was interupted, and one time they interupted themselves._

**

* * *

**

The first time was on just an average Tuesday morning the week after the wedding job. There wasn't really anything going on but Nate had established this annoying policy that they all had to keep regular office hours. It was supposedly to keep up their cover story, though everyone knew it was Nate trying to keep them out of trouble. But no one actually had to do work that wasn't related to a job and they'd gotten to the point they enjoyed each others company enough to only grumble a little.

Eliot came in on time as usual, setting down his stuff in his office and settling into the comfortable leather chair in the corner of his office with a book. It was more or less what he'd been doing prior to coming to the offices but he could put up with a change in scenery. Besides, neither Hardison or Parker were awake enough this early in the morning to be annoying. Sleepiness normally kept them almost normal until at least eleven or so except when the adrenalin of a job had them going like energizer bunnies.

Eliot sometimes wondered if that was one reason Nate insisted on normal business hours instead of tweaking it a few hours later to cater to the fact two of the team were not morning people.

It was nearing the end of the morning quiet period when the door opened. Eliot cursed internally, wondering if consistently having to wake up earlier was allowing them to adapt to the new schedule, when Nate stuck his head in. "We got a job?" Eliot asked.

"Not yet, I've got Hardison checking a couple of leads and I'm taking a few hours off. Interested in a game of chess?"

Eliot was marking his place and putting the book down before he registered he was a little too eager to do so. But it was chess, he reasoned to himself, with a... friend? Mentor? Boss? … He internally shook his head. It was just chess, with the person who'd taught him chess, with whom he had some of the only good memories of his mid twenties. It was challenging and fun and why wouldn't he want to play it and he was spending too much time thinking about this. "Sure. Don't have a board with me though."

"I got one." Nate answered, gesturing with his head over his shoulder. Eliot followed, surprised when Nate led him not to his office but to the conference room.

Eliot was still making his third move when the conference room door opened letting in Sophie and the sounds of Parker and Hardison up to some kind of mischief that they hadn't been able to hear until now. Eliot turned his attention to the grifter, absently (but not for the first time)grateful of the room's sound dampening walls when the door closed behind her and once more muffled the noise.

"Nate I wanted to ask you abo-" Sophie started before noticing Nate wasn't alone in the room. "Good morning Eliot. I didn't know you played chess." She paused a beat and Eliot could almost feel her categorize their relaxed, non competitive postures and the haphazard positioning of the board and whatever else. "Or that you two played chess with each other." _Often _was silently tagged on the end. Eliot wasn't half the people reader Sophie was and he knew the game she walked in on had plenty of familiarity to catch onto.

Eliot was taken off guard though when Nate answered for them. "Yeah, we chess. I'd hope so. I taught him how." Eliot kept his face from betraying his surprise. It had been less than a week since they'd talked about their shared history and how Nate had left the team thinking they didn't have much of it. They hadn't really made a decision but Eliot figured that meant Nate would continue not to say anything.

But then he answered Sophie's questioning look with. "When we met." He turned to Eliot a questioning look on his face. "Was it really eight years ago?"

"Nearly nine." Eliot answered absently, trying to figure out what the hell Nate was playing at. Nate knew very well just how long ago it was. Hell, Nate could probably give the exact date he first saw Eliot and the exact date Eliot was first lucid enough to "meet" Nate.

"Oh. The time in Cairo was with Eliot? Has it really been that long?" Sophie commented, like she hadn't more or less told Eliot she knew a bit about what happened and assumed it was him. She had that look like she was trying to decide what the most profitable emotion to express was on her face. She seemed almost crestfallen and Eliot had to wonder if maybe he'd known Nate longer than she had.

Later, much much later and possibly never, he would address why that gave him a sort of snidely pleased feeling in his stomach.

_Yeah, you two had a long fling through Europe or but I was here first. I saved his life. You shot him. _

Yeah, considering even just putting mental words to the feeling made him sound like a teenage girl he wasn't going to address that feeling until he had to. Though considering how often that and other weird shit feelings had been occurring lately he might have to do so soon.

"If you don't mind me asking…" Sophie said, almost hesitantly.

Nate shrugged. "I was in Cairo, Eliot was in Cairo and we were both not having the best of luck."

Eliot snorted. "If getting caught by crime lords and held in a small cell for two weeks counts as 'not having the best of luck'." Of course, considering where he'd just escaped at the time it could have been much worse. "Nate an' I ended up cellmates."

Eliot turned back to the board as Nate made his next move, and turned his attention briefly back to the game. He was going to pretend like he didn't have this sudden urge to recount their shared history.

He was going to just keep playing chess and not thinking about what the hell was up with him.

A moment later Hardison came in (clutching a file folder protectively and edging away from a sulking Parker) and announced he was ready to brief them on their next job. He and Nate both quickly memorized their piece's locations and packed the board away.

It looked like he wasn't going to be able to keep playing chess so he'd just have to focus on not thinking about the brewing mess in his head.

Secretly Hardison kept a running ranking system of who was most annoying to have staying back with him while the rest of the team was out playing their parts on a con. The system was based on a complex scoring module he was actually considering trying to write a program for the next time he was bored and WoW was down for updates again. What time of day was a factor (Parker was least annoying in the morning when she was often sleepy and most annoying just before sundown when she had a habit of getting keyed up like nightfall meant she'd be doing something "fun"), so was what the others were up to (Eliot tended to get irritated and really tense when the others were up to something involving people he could be punching if he wasn't trapped in the office missing out on the fun).

But a big factor was who else was currently out of the action.

Sophie was actually the best company when it was just her. When it was Sophie *and* someone else Sophie seemed to feel this need to talk to them with mixed results that rarely were that conducive to Hardison getting his work done.

Hardison had thought that having Nate and Eliot stuck back with him while Parker and Sophie did their thing (gifting and stealing into a rather heavily secured office building no less) would score high on the distracting scale. Eliot was probably going to be cranky (not that Hardison would ever say so out loud, he liked his arms unbroken thank you very much) and Nate was Nate and he'd been off kilter lately and the two of them had had this weird vibe thing going on like they couldn't decide whether they were the best of buds or wanted nothing to do with each other.

Hardison wondered if he could get away with commenting on how they were founding the bastard cousin of UST, UPT (Unsatisfied Platonic Tension). Or if he could start complaining that they should "Just high five already". What was the Will-they-won't-they "Just fuck already" version when it was between two guys who couldn't seem to admit they were friends?

Shit, now he had the image of Nate and Eliot "Just fucking already" in his head and it was just nasty.

Eliot was looking at him like he knew what Hardison was thinking and wasn't at all amused.

Mentally scaring mental images aside so far it hadn't actually been that bad. Nate had been doing his mastermind thing and Eliot was sitting in the corner either quietly seething at missing out on a chance to hit somebody or listening to the com. Hardison was never really sure.

The pieces were in play though and it would be a little while before either of them could or should do anything and the next thing Hardison knew Nate was pulling out a travel chess board. Eliot moved to sit across from him and they set up what looked like a barely started game of chess.

"Just play chess already?" Hardison tried in his head, though they were apparently already playing chess and they'd been even weirder around each other lately than before.

Hardison turned his attention back to his computer.

Five minutes later the three of them were racing out of the room, the board left behind with the power supplies to Hardison's computers and blank monitors as the only evidence they'd been there at all.

Hardison imagined that sound he heard just around the corner and down the hallway from them was the thugs sent after them throwing the board against the wall in frustration.

Eliot led the way down a back stair, trying to get the three of them safely out of the building. Even as they all but ran Hardison was hitting the short series of keys to start a memory wipe and overwrite on the laptop he was carrying.

At the bottom of the stairs he traded for the one Nate was carrying. He wouldn't wipe this one until it was absolutely necessary. Which it looked like it might be soon.

Then he heard Eliot say the words that would keep echoing through his mind for a long time to come.

"You guys go on ahead. I'll catch up."

Nate faltered for just a moment longer than Hardison before they both turned tail and ran.

72 hours ago Sophie had been comfortable in her assessment that Nate and Eliot were like two knights from different kingdoms who found themselves fighting as allies. They had a surprising deal of respect for each other, and even trusted one another in "battle" a good deal more than the others did at first but they had always been in some semblance of opposition and would never, could never, be friends.

Hell, 50 hours ago she'd thought that, maybe even more recently than that. The revelation of their history involving chess two mornings ago had somewhat supported that idea in her head. Two old rivals coming together to play chess. Symbolic really. But there had been an undertone of something else she hadn't really given thought of.

But now.

Eight hours ago Nate, Eliot, and Hardison had been ambushed in their temporary headquarters in the city they were working their most recent job. They had made an escape but with a very odd move on Eliot's part.

He'd sacrificed himself to get Nate and Hardison out safely, getting caught by their pursuers.

It was justifiable in that Eliot had a better chance of escaping by himself, and the team had a better chance of coming to the rescue with Nate and Hardison aiding the attempts rather than needing the rescue.

But to put his fate in their hands even this much… And Sophie couldn't help wonder if it was Eliot making the tactically advantageous move or what was left of the young thief who had once helped Nate escape seeking to protect Nate from recapture.

Trust, no.

Loyalty.

That was what she hadn't been able to read in their interactions yet. They were loyal. They were...

Six and some hours ago Eliot had been captured but those holding him hadn't noticed his com. There was something jamming the signal preventing Hardison from getting an accurate trace but he was working fast. Parker was ready to go in and Sophie was ready to help where she could.

And Nate? Nate was sitting in a chair, rubbing his forehead, a half finished drink next to him as he waited..

Eliot had been unconscious for four hours.

For an hour he had played possum to try to buy himself time, barely risking a few words to let them know he was still alive and the com was still working.

A little past the fifth hour his captors came in and threw a pale of water over him to wake him up and started a round of questioning.

At which point everyone but Nate had taken out their coms, the sound of blows landing, rattling chains, and flesh hitting flesh more than they were willing to listen to.

They had watched Nate as he poured himself a drink and then another, Sophie couldn't even bring herself to be upset.

When Nate had said "what?", disbelief on his voice they had feared the worst until he followed it with a soft "bishop to E-5." He closed his eyes and winced, a few tense moments passing before he added "knight takes the pawn on G-7."

"Did Nate go crazy?" Parker had asked quietly a few minutes later.

Sophie had shaken her head. "They're playing chess by memory."

Even as Sophie had spoken Nate's voice had faded halfway through a move. "Eliot? I'm listening… We're going to come get you okay? Just… hold on. Eliot? Eliot?" Another moment later he turned back to the team. "The battery on his com died."

The ensuing silence still hadn't broken.

Minutes ticked by. Parker got antsy but tried not to show it. Nate finished his bottle of whatever.

They entered into the seventh hour since Eliot had been taken and Nate stood up and reconsulted with Hardison. The com was their only lead at the moment and with every minute what was left of the auxiliary power was draining away with any chance they had of find Eliot soon.

A minor eruption of angered voices came from Nate and Hardison and Sophie moved over, ready to sort this out only to find Hardison looking at Nate with a mixture of confusion and a touch of fear.

"I don't… do I even want to know what that is?" Hardison asked.

"What what is?"

"I asked Nate why he was acting like Eliot was gonna die any second. I mean I care what happens to Eliot but the pressure is not helpful. And he said that Eliot's got a Hitter's Backup plan and we need to move fast." Sophie felt her stomach drop. Of course Eliot would. "I don't even know what that is."

Sophie took a breath and tried to explain in a calm tone, understanding why Nate was freaking out. "Due to the nature of there work it's much more likely for a Hitter to be captured by those who know how to keep them secure. Those who catch them are also much more likely to want revenge or information." She let out another breath at the look crossing Hardison's face. "Some Hitters make a preparation for this to ensure that should they be caught with no way of escape and a slow painful death ahead of them they can commit suicide quickly and painlessly."

"Before the communication cut Eliot told me they'd stripped him and chained him tight against a concrete wall and weren't letting him down for anything. They may not know who he is but they saw how dangerous he was. If we don't help him…"

Sophie filled in the blank for herself. If it wasn't for having a team this would be exactly the kind of situation a Hitter might take the easy way out of.

Something beeped on Hardison's computer and he turned back, typing furiously for a moment before all but shouting. "Got him! I know where Eliot is."

Parker didn't care.

Yeah, she liked Eliot a lot more than she normally liked people. He made her food and stole stuff with her and when he said she was strange it felt almost like he didn't really mean it like that.

And he was sort of nice.

But she didn't care that he was hurt.

No, she did care, just not that much. She wasn't worrying and the sight of him chained up against the wall, bruises and blood staining skin already marred by scars hadn't made her cry inside in her special angry place.

And it hadn't made her rage either.

It hadn't.

And none of that was why she was crawling through the air ducts in the hospital where they'd taken Eliot. The nurses had told them that only family could see Eliot and Nate had been the only one with an alias related to Eliot's. Parker was crawling through the air vents to find Eliot's room because she wanted to spite the nurses.

Not because she needed to see him to make sure he was still breathing.

Not because she was crying in her special angry place.

To spite the nurses.

She found the air vent above his bed and peeked through. Eliot had his eyes (well, eye, one was swollen shut) open and was watching Nate where he sat beside Eliot's bed. They both looked uncomfortable and Parker guessed that they'd just finished talking about the tracking device Nate, Hardison, and Sophie wanted to put in Eliot so they could find him easier if this ever happened again.

It never would. Parker could tell them that. She wouldn't let it. It was way too much hassle and not enough money in the end and Eliot got hurt… which of course she only cared about because it meant the team wouldn't do anything until he was better which was boring.

After a long moment of silence Nate spoke again. "Pawn to B-8."

Eliot nodded and closed his eyes, breathing evening out before he answered. "Rook to A-4.

Two more moves and Nate lost another piece to Eliot. They made it through a move after that before Eliot stopped responding.

He'd fallen asleep.

Nate settled down into his seat and Parker tried to get comfortable. She'd stay here for awhile. She found that constant steady beep to be soothing.

They sat quietly in his apartment. Just him and Eliot and a chess board set between them.

It had been four days since they rescued him, twenty-four hours since Eliot was released from the hospital, and forty minutes since he showed up on Nate's doorstep.

They didn't talk about the conversation in the hospital, where they had talked about (without actually talking about) what Eliot had been trying to say to him between gasps as the com died.

They didn't talk about the tracking device.

They didn't talk about the fact Eliot had a new set of wounds that would heal into scars, the first he'd received in defense of this team.

They played chess, trying to finish their game.

Eliot moved, taking his queen with a rook and saying the first word spoken since Eliot asked him if he wanted to finish their chess game.

"Check."

Nate looked up from the board, meeting Eliot's eyes.

Later they would talk about what happened next.

Much Much Later.


End file.
